Well this wasn’t how I had planned my day: but I have been a harvesting aplenty today. And have just come inside to revive and rest my arm from the heavy bucket of fruit. Ooh what a show off. But it’s true. The plum trees below the house and the mirabelles on the path up to the potting shed are shedding like mad.

And what a crop. Here are the red plums that I was able to reach. And the rest are just going to have to rot. They are too high up and with a slope there is no way I can get them.  I only noticed them when I was watering the small olive trees underneath. And they are alive and kicking. What a winter the poor things had.

You can’t really tell from this rather odd photograph, but there is growth and it bodes well for a crop in about, oh, ten years time.

I really need to do some careful strimming of this little bank. There is a lot of growth around the trees. Even though I have put a mulch of river stones around each plant.

The day started a long way from trees: up too early owing to a mozzie bite on my foot, I couldn’t get back to sleep so decided to just get out there and plant 100 leeks. It’s dead easy as I have already made the holes in the weedproof fabric. And I whipped them into the ground in no time.

The tool I used to make the deep hole was a lovely inheritance from my late father in law. It is a heavy steel spike, perfect for pushing about eight inches of soil aside to make way for the seedlings.  And I missed him greatly when I bent to the task. He had so much wonderful knowledge about gardening and particularly vegetables. I like to think he would approve that I have now more than 160 leeks in the ground and was even contemplating planting 50 more. There is the space.

I have two new cloches – made by Bernard yesterday. One I have already placed in the long row ready for the swiss chard crop. It is under the thick netting that started life as the broad bean protector. And as soon as I prick out the newly sown chard, this will be the perfect place for them.

The other cloche will serve a job as protector against the four footed beasts for my new beetroot crop. Beet tops are just too tempting for my favourite deer. So they will have to be double netted like the lettuce cloche. But I dont have time to build the netting just yet. And besides, I haven’t even pricked out the beetroot seedlings or potted them on. So I have about ten days or so left.

And that is my allotted break time. Tea is over, mp3 recharged. I need to get more plums in before I flop onto the sofa and watch the Mont Ventoux stage of the Tour de France.

And here is the haul. Just under three kilos. Or thereabout. I had a bit of trouble getting them on to the scales.

Now I have a nice afternoon job to do. Halve them, poach them and then either make tarts, or freeze them. Bliss.

It is done. And it only took four and a half hours with just one small break for liquids. Boy am I glad that is over. My last shameful part of the garden is tamed at last. And doesn’t it look a picture?

I started on the soul destroying task of taming the weeds first of all. Brambles were creeping in on all sides. There is a wasteland between our house and Jean-Daniel’s. It belongs to a local farmer who owns this tiny fifty foot strip of land that goes all the way to the top of the mountain. Does it serve any purpose? No, too small to build on, he will never sell. And it is a harbinger of doom. Well, exaggerating I know, but it is one mighty jungle of brambles, vines and weeds. And it threatens to engulf the vegetable garden each and every year.

So I battle on with secateurs, thick gauntlet gloves and gritty determination. First up was to attack the brambles that were seeping in from the top side of the plot. These are satisfyingly large and succumb crisply to one cut. Then into little pieces they go and into the now tidy compost bins.

I had to take out some lovely compost soil in one of the bins first. Lovely stuff, perfect for putting on my much neglected cranberries.

Then in went mountains of future black gold, but for now it was just a snag hazard on my clothes and skin. I am criss-crossed prettily with welts.

The final slog was to stake all the asparagus plants which were threatening to list. And then it was time to put down yet more new crisp from the packet weed-proof fabric. I really ought to buy shares in this stuff, it’s a god send.

And as the six o’clock bell was chiming in the village across the valley (almost drowned out by the incessant bongo drums of the weekend long festival of indifferent rock in St Michel) I turned to the raspberry plants themselves and claimed my reward.

Beer time and a quiet lie down.

All this morning’s activities have been the most blatant attempt to put off the inevitable: the top potager. Or the jungle as it is currently called. I have been in sight of the project but deftly avoided it. For hours. First up there was a spot of sowing and potting on. An obvious giveaway as I would normally not be indoors when the weather is perfect for weeding. It is only 24C today which is ideal gardening weather.

I pricked out sixty radish seedlings: hadn’t planned to do that many but I can never bring myself to throw away germinated seeds. And then started on the new packs of flower seeds for next year.

Erysiumum Blood Red, Nigella African Bride and Forget Me Not Spring Symphony Blue. Seems daft to be thinking of spring in the middle of summer, but now is my chance to keep an eye on all my nascent plants.

Then when I could hide no longer in the shed I went out and weeded paths. See, weeding, I’m halfway there. I weeded the top steps leading to the road above the potting shed. And even sowed some grass seeds on each tread.

They look wonderfully rustic. And even the stipas and sedums have survived this hot summer. No watering at all up there. The hose doesn’t reach. And by the time I have hefted the watering can into the barrels, trudged up to the terraces and done the flowers and grasses, I can never be bothered to walk this far.

Which is also why this picture looks as it does. What on earth is it? Sedums that have flowered and left behind their rattling stalks. What a mess. But by sitting down (back to the job above the road) I managed to trim them back to almost pleasant sedum-ness. This terrace has never ever been watered. It is a sort of cruel experiment to see just what neglect can be permitted with some plants. These sedums were grown from seed two years ago. And are still alive and almost look attractive now they are shorn. Forgot to take a picture of them before I came into lunch. Shall snap away when I go up and face my potager.

And before I head out and do my bit, here is a success story. The first pennisetum on the bank has flowered. Hallelujah.

And just to show I wasn’t remiss. I went back up and photographed the sedum after the haircut. Better,  I think.

Now the irony is not lost on me. Here I am cutting flowers for the house. But they are wildflowers. And all that work on sowing, pricking out, planting, watering and nurturing all those hundreds of flowers up in the cutting garden are not doing yet their job. I need to get some plants in much earlier in the year if I am to have flowers for the house in mid July. Cow parsley to the rescue. Again. Well, I do have lilies and for that I am grateful.

Actually there are flowers up at the garden: the liatris spicata bulbs are up and flowering. And the agastache is tall and wafting its liquorice scent. But I don’t think they will do for the vases indoors. But if I am desparate they may serve.

It’s hot today. 30C and a bit humid. We actually had some rain this morning – happened of course when I was watering the blueberry bushes. But it didn’t last longer than the time it took for me to go up to the house, don raincoat and come back to the garden.

But at least it gave one hope. My first job today was to admire the thyme steps down to the vegetable bed. It doesn’t look half bad with all that gloaming weeding of the brambles. You can even see the thyme plants now. And don’t they look parched. Must remember to give them a slosh of water when I cruise past on the way up to the lemon verbena plant. And the tomatoes could do with more watering too. I cut off a whole bucket full of leaves last night. But I can’t really see the difference. Some of these branches low down need staking too. But one of the advantages of the weedproof fabric is that the fruit and vegetables never really rot on the ground. It does make it easy for bugs and slugs. But neither seem to be in evidence right now. Too hot for the poor dears. Luckily the butterflies and bees are well supplied with flowers and nectar. Doing my bit.

But speaking of staking, I couldn’t work out why I had trouble going past the thornless blackberry bush today. Had they grown a few feet overnight? No. Their string support had broken under the weight of the fruit. A quick twinkle up to the potting shed (read that as a slow trudge in the hot humid heat) and I brought back some sturdy wire and secateurs for any random weeding en route.

I found a few ripe berries under all of this mess. And they were delicious. There is something about eating warm fruit from the plant that enhances its flavour. Or is it just greed? Probably the latter. But we are definitely going to have some fabulous fruit tarts this year. And a groaning freezer full of good intentions. Or will I make yet more blackberry jam. That sounds ideal.

For some dumb reason I chose to plod about the far reaches of the property in this heat. I could be in the cool of the house reading book four of the Martin Beck series by Sjowall and Wahloo. But no. Outdoors and under a very large hat.

There was something Nicolas mentioned on the phone yesterday that had me pondering. Did he mention continue the work in the vineyard? Or commence? If it was continue then I really must go down and see if the vines are still head high with weeds.

But the reward of the walk was in the viewing. A weed free plot. Amazing. He has a knack of getting in between the vines with a strimmer without chopping the vines to bits. I can’t manage it, which is why I just avoid. But they look great. And I can even see some fruit on the vines. There could be a crop this year. If any one of us can be bothered to harvest.

And while I was in this quadrant of the property, I thought I should go and find a spare hose for the raspberry bushes.  I seem to recall there were some random bits of hosing on top of the rabbit hutches in the spare shed.

A spare shed? A surplus of sheds. Everyone’s dream. We have a spare shed going begging at the far end of the first terrace below the road. It is the repository of rabbit hutches right now. But one day may be better used. Actually I think of it as the last bastion against the tide of nettles down there. If there wasn’t a shed in the way they would creep another twenty feet down the terrace and eat more lawn. But I found the hose and then walked with it all the way up to the raspberries at the top.

The fruit is crying out for a water and I have three barrels of the stuff just ten tantalising feet away. I don’t think I have the stamina for endless watering cans worth over every tree later tonight. But I may be able to siphon it off and get a good flow. The water is a bit green and there are floaty bits, but the raspberries wont mind. I will if I get a mouthful of the stuff when siphoning, but we shall leave that for later.

And then walking back down to the house (the call of the crime novel being most insistent now) I decided to inspect the mystery fruit tree up above the road above the guest house. How could we have missed something this big before?

And just look at the fruit. Peach? Some of the fruit look like nectarine. Maybe there are two seedlings growing up side by side. The result of a careless toss of a stone whilst driving past? Who knows. But you can bet that I will be up there and harvesting as soon as they are ripe.

Up early this morning and I opened up all the windows and doors in the office to catch the morning breeze. And would you know it I didn’t realise I was creating a little bird highway. A bird has twice used the office as a short cut. It flew so fast I didn’t have time to see what type it was, and then I was too amazed that it would do it twice to see more than fast feathers. It flew in the open door that faces the courtyard and out the window to the safety of the wisteria. Quite a nifty shortcut and a baffle for whatever was chasing it.

I have experienced one of those days where time just oozed rather than raced. I came in today thinking it was at least five o’clock but actually twas only quarter to three. Perhaps all the weeding made me flag. Or the idiotically foolish attempt to tidy away all of Nicolas’s spare tree trunks. He does leave things in rather an abandoned state when tasks are completed. One finds tape measures in paths, tools abandoned on slopes and this time, logs. I was dying to get the good pic of the new terraces, so heaved and hauled the spare logs out of the way.

And you wonder why afternoon tea was accompanied by a hefty dose of nurafen plus and almost half an hour’s remedial stretching on the yoga mat. One never learns. Bad backs are bad because we are idiots. But I was sufficiently recovered to power out again and do more weeding. Must have been the cool cloudy sky. Almost threatening rain.

The east garden was the first area that needed attention. The eryngiums and asters are now staked, the lilac bed weeded utterly and then watered. And then it was time to try and decode the wisteria bed. Lots of lush weeds in between the plants. There are red hot pokers that were labeled as Green Jade. Hmm. Does that look green to you? I would say screaming orange – which isn’t the colour scheme I am after. Mind you, there is no colour scheme here right now, just green leaves rather than flowers. So I ought to be grateful the peacock orchids, the nasturtiums and the new Rudbeckia green wizard seedlings are alive and not crisp after this heatwave, and just hope for more colour soon.

And while it was still cool I decided to plant out all the seedlings that travelled over from England. Apart from the coriander plant that came from the Camden Garden Centre, I bought plants galore when Jan and I visited the Open Gardens Scheme Coach House garden in Hampshire. More Allium sphaerocephalon for the herb bed. I bought five pots of those. And it was one of those spooky coincidences that I had seen them the week before at Andrew’s and yearned for some of my own. Came back to tidy the weed bed and lo and behold I had some they just hadn’t come into flower yet. They were planted two years ago as miscellaneous bulbs and there they were peeking out over the sage bushes. But I needed more. And what is the first plant I spy at the stall at the garden? Allium sphaerocephalon. And that’s the last time I’m going to spell it. Great to have taller colour in the herb garden now that the allium purple sensations are just dry sticks.

I bought two veronicastrums as well as trial plants; these went up to the shade garden.

Long pause there while I trudge up to the plants, scrabble about their roots, read the label, write them down and trudge back.

Veronicastrum virginicum ‘Roseum’ and veronicastrum fascination ‘Pointed Finger’. The pointed finger is much showier, but it looks more fragile than the Roseum. I shall give both a go over the seasons and then decide which to buy more of.

I bought a pot of Nepeta Walkers Low to see if it will behave itself better than the Six Hills Giant of which I have small floppy clumps sulking on the edge of the shade garden. And also some (wait for it) omphalodes linifolia. It is an annual but I am hoping it will self seed a bit around the shade garden and make for a bit of variety in the ground cover department. There’s going to be a dull Geranium glut next year if I’m not careful.

I also planted out a hemerocallis called Summer Wine which fell into my shopping basket at a London plant nursery the day before I travelled. I only went in to Clifton Gardens to see if they had any more Verbena Bonanriensis seeds, honest guv. It has gone in front of the Molinea in the courtyard and is already flowering away.

Next up were the peas that had germinated in the potting shed during my absence. I am trying to extend the season for the vegetable garden a bit this year. Hence more peas. In they went and I decided to give a try at more beetroot. But under the safety of a well netted cloche. I sowed a row of the Italian variety Da Orto Paonazza D’Eggitto… what is it about the spelling today. Why can’t I just get away with short squat beetroot variety? And also put in a row of mixed radish for good measure.

In the potting shed I sowed more spinach to replace the ones that slimed (Mikado) and did some kale, coriander and more radish and beetroot to keep up the numbers.

One more thing I brought out from London was a packet (small alas) of shady and dry grass seed mix. This came in handy as I now have more space to sow and create paths. Down went the seed on the elderflower path, and then it was time to weed the chestnut steps in preparation for a bit of seed sowing there.

Now I know that this isn’t the idea time for grass sowing. But at least I am here to water morning and night to try and get the little blighters germinating and up.

They are shady and it is dry. Fingers crossed. I was thinking of also sowing seeds on the steps up behind the pottting shed, but this was the mad moment when I saw the logs lying about nearby and tidied them away.

Refreshed from drugs and stretching I sat down in the shade of the corn and weeded away while the sun came out and any hope of rain from the cloudy cool morning departed.

And speaking of shade it was time to actually reduce it. The chestnut tree that shades the part of the garden where most of the plants are growing was doing the same thing. It was sprouting everywhere. I gingerly stepped into the shade bed and started in on the suckers with my secateurs. Hah. Not good enough. Time to go for the bigger guns.

Out came the loppers and I had that tree trunk bald and smooth in no time.  That ought to let in more light where it is needed.

I weeded around the grasses on the bank. One curious thing about this hot weather; the weeds are shrivelling up on the surface of the soil. It does make removing them easier.

But not so the brambles that are threatening the side of the vegetable bed down near the house. In the very cool of the evening I started to with some thick gauntlets and secateurs. No idea how long it took but it it certainly an improvement. Tomorrow when it’s light I will photograph and see where I have been.

And to finish on a fruity note, look at the bumper crop of Mirabelles we are going to get this year. I kept bonking my head on the branches as I walked along Alice’s path. Can’t wait to taste them. And bake them in tarts, and make jam. And stew them. Fruit on the brain. There are even a few plums in the trees in front of the house. I can see some purple orbs glinting through the branches when I stand on the terrace. But they are too high and will be almost impossible to pick. Perhaps I shall just wait until they drop and hope I reach them in time.

Here it is: the blog of good intentions. Arrived today to start the full six weeks of summer holidays. I was impatient to arrive, but my patience had to be tested by the lugubrious convoy of a circus all the way up the Eyrieux Valley. Tediously slow, but once up onto our winding road it was open the throttle and charge up.

Bags into the house, plants watered from the parched journey, and then it was time to trot around the garden and see what Nicolas was up to while I was away.

And glory be there’s some landscaping to be admired. The new terraces were almost done last trip, but now they are tidy: And they have been joined by more chestnut logs outside the potting shed and the steps to the flower garden are complete. And don’t they look smashing? I am so pleased.

From now on I can trot down the steps to get to the water barrels, rather than an ungracious slip and slide. And this is the best time when landscaping is complete. The weeds haven’t germinated and everything is bare dirt. 

There was also a new addition to the edging of the path below the potting shed. Nicolas made steps down to the pool at the back of the property; but there was a sloping section just around the elderflower tree. (It has on the death list for a while, but we have realised that it does serve a purpose back here – holds up the wall.)  Now there is a large log in place on the edge of the track and soil has been added to make it level.

Tomorrow I shall sow grass seeds over the neat and now weed free area to keep it looking like the rest of the steps. And I may even be inspired to prune the elderflower. It does get wild and billowy by summer. I had in fact planned to make elderflower jelly from the flowers in spring but missed the opportunity. Turned my back (while making strawberry and rose petal jam) and the flowers were over. But the tree is full of fruit so will make elderflower syrup and other elixirs later in the season.

And Nicolas has also managed to do some edging along the area that was called the mini meadow. But is actually a mini weed containment zone. The chestnut poles are thinner than the ones elsewhere, but are more flexible. And he has managed to stack two on top of each other for a bit of height.

I have a lot of planning to do if this is going to look better next year. Maybe a line of Molinea transparents all the way along to hide the rocks and mess above. And dare I be so dull as to accept that a small grass path won’t go amiss? I always think grass is a sign of defeat, but it’s the way down to the pool and it will look rather fun. That is if it ever rains again. The lawn is so dry I don’t dare photograph it. All very parched. And I can’t even remember how lush the grass was on the paths a few months ago. I was worrying about how on earth I was going to strim it. Now it’s bleached and growing very, very slowly.

But what of the flowers and the pretties? Plenty to show, and show off. The lilac bed is the first thing you see when you arrive and it’s showing some interesting plants. I’m not sure the echinacea belongs there, I may have to rethink the colour scheme next year. But the asters are out and the eryngiums are so blue they look spray painted. I am pleased with the growth of the perovskia. But always get plant envy when I drive up past a house in St Laurent du Pape. They have a thicket of pervoskia that makes you moan with delight.

I need to stake the eryngiums tomorrow and dead head the lavender. Surprised it has gone over so quickly. But this isn’t a normal season. And I must do something about the coherence. Perhaps the whole area needs a good knitting of geraniums as ground cover. I had hoped the grasses will do that job eventually. And in fact the calamagrostis Karl Foerster is thriving. But it’s putting on height but not girth yet. So I just need to be patient.

And I keep looking and watering the stipa gigantea, but it’s not flowering yet. Nor is the one in the courtyard garden. But it’s lush and alive and that’s reassuring. I think I have lost one of my pulsatillas that I bought with Andrew when we visited Beth Chatto. But I shan’t despair. Things do manage to surprise by reviving when you least expect them.

Take the courtyard roses for instance. Second flush is coming. Hurrah.

And the dahlias are out. I only have white ones and I have actually left them in the shade of the cutting garden. But they seem to be fine even in these un ideal conditions.

The banks up above the potting shed are fine. I put the picture of my echinacea, calamagrostis, salvia and eupatorium design at the beginning of this post as it is doing so well. The salvias are just over and the echinacea are out in a perfectly choreographed succession. I should shear off the dead salvia flowers, but they are still attractive so shall put it off. And I don’t know if I really will get a second flush.

But actually I am wondering if the eupatorium (Joe Pye Weed) are going to do in this climate. I think they prefer more moisture than I can give them during droughts. It’s that tyranny of the garden magazines. They photograph the flowers and plants when they are at their absolute best. But how long do you wait for that magnificence? Do they sulk all summer just looking a bit dull and then give you a burst of joy in September? We shall see.

At least the lilies are bursting out of their buds. Flowers for the house with divine scent. Joy.

And the vegetable garden? Plenty of firsts here. The tomatoes have ripened and will be harvested tomorrow. Lots of growth on the aubergines. The beans are a bit parched and sorry for themselves, but I did pick a small bucketful of beans in the gloaming.

I also picked a large punnet of raspberries up at the top potager. They are thirsty plants and definitely need some tending this week. The fruit are just that little bit smaller than usual. And considering I haven’t watered in weeks, I’m amazed they are still producing despite this dreadful neglect.

Almost there with the record of the first day: I’m flagging. The grapes in the courtyard are full of fruit. I am just ignoring the strange pustules on some of the leaves and going to give them a break from any attention this year. I am supposed to liberally spray them with Bordeaux Mixture, (copper sulphate) the only chemical permitted by the organic gardeners. But it has been so dry that I will be amazed if they succumb to mildew this year. I may be wrong, but letting them fend for themselves is going to be this year’s theme.

And the lazy gardener’s germination technique has worked again. I sowed a lot of seeds just before I left and put them inside plastic bags for the nine days I was away. Back up to the potting shed and voila. Germination. They get a touch slimy inside their plastic prisons (and the spinach didn’t make it). But it makes use of the time I am away.

And that is it for tonight. I did go down to the orchard to see what fruit had appeared. Two apricots and one apple are my haul tonight. The apricots are too small to be tasty, but the apple had a tart but tasty flavour. Which tree? Don’t ask me that. I can’t remember! Perhaps the Falstaff, or maybe the James Grieve. Who knows. It was dark by then, and I haven’t memorised the sequence of trees in my tiny orchard. Yet.

How on earth do you link this disparate group of pictures? No idea so shan’t even try. You can see that I’m flagging; but this is the last. After this I shall be orderly and timely and not leave pictures such as these dangling.

The herb garden is my most established flower bed. By established I mean you can’t step into it without treading on a plant. And behind the herbs are the roses. New Dawn ones this time. Oddly unscented but at least fetching.

And when they have done their duty as background plants, they are plucked off the wall and tossed into a basket for drying and potential pot pourri. (That is a later project for when I work out just how to turn them into a christmas treat.)

The other blooming marvel of the spring season just over was the Deutsia shrub. Yes, it’s too big now to be called a shrub. And it’s the dullest plant in the scent department. But here it is in its glory. With luck and a cracking of the whip, Nicolas may have given it a mighty pruning when I get back.

It’s possible you have seen this before. But just the effort of scrolling back through the month of posts is too much. I have blogger’s thumb. So apologies for the repetition.

And here are some yet more random flowers. The rogersia flowered well in the cutting garden. But has since become so parched that it badly needs re-positioning. Will I wait until autumn? Perhaps not. It may be dead from too much heat before then. It is only now that I can actually see what is a shaded garden and what has gaps in the chestnut tree canopy above and is blasting the plants to oblivion below.

And then there is the little flower bed at the end of the lawn. I vacillate between calling it the grasses garden or the rock garden. Either will suffice, but both sound dull. And right now the nepeta is flowering and competing prettily with verbena bonariensis. More of that please.

But no. More flowers would make this a thematically neat posting. Instead I have to lob some last pictures of vegetables to ruin the look. I have three pictures left before I can log out, chill out and stir fry lots of these veg for dinner.  I didn’t bring back any new potatoes on the Eurostar to London this week. Coals to Newcastle comes to mind. But here they are in situ.

Love that dry brown earth look to the potager. That won’t last.

And up at the top potager I keep mentioning the asparagus, but consistently fail to show you what they look like at this time of year. They are staked, (well, that’s boasting, they are corralled between bits of string) and they are tall.  And with a bit if luck next year we might get a spear or two from the entire bed. Patience, it has its virtues. So I am told.

Last but not least. The missing white currants from the list of the post below. White currants. Pink currants, hours of toil to strip off the stalks and leaves. I have stuffed them into tupperware boxes and shoved them in the freezer. Who knows, come high summer I will pull them out and lovingly turn them into a pretty tart. One can always dream.

Gad, this task is giving me RSI. I have emptied a rather shameful folder called Unclaimed Pictures and am poised to launch them onto this site.

First up is the before, during and after of a small area of the swimming pool landscaping project. Weeds just about summarised what this area looked like last month.

So much soil was washed down to this part of the decking during last year’s autumn flood that the inevitable happened: lush growth of unwanted greenery.

I needed to pull up the weeds, pluck each and every pebble out of the walkway. And then put down some weedproof fabric.

And this was hot work. I tended to try and get some of the pebbles out before the sun rose over the mountain each morning. But I just plain ran out of time and then had to swelter and get the darn thing done. Being good, I had to pluck them out one by one and not even think of overloading any wheelbarrow and then trying to lift. So it was tedious.  But look at the results. Neat and tidy; just the way one likes ones pebbles and paths to be.

I had just slid the photographs I want to place in this blog onto the desktop when a huge clap of thunder and flash of lightning exploded overhead. Now if this was out at the house you know I wouldn’t even be connected to a source of electricity, let along a computer. When we get storms it’s all unplug and cower. But here in London one feels much more smug.

But what a downpour. I have rain envy; can’t imagine what volume of water is falling on this part of town right now but it must be inches. Thunder, inky clouds, lightning forks and flashes. and I have even had to resort to the wireless as the signal has gone down on the satellite. Curses. Just when the Tour de France was getting exciting.

And yes, it’s just a background distraction, not the day job. I had promised myself to stay in this seat and get every single picture posted on the blog before the day is out. It is as dark as night outside, but there are still the dangling pictures from a June 23rd folder to sort and post.

First pictures up are the courtyard weeds. I have been leaving these hollyhocks until they flowered; just in the hope that they were the dark crimson interesting varieties. But alas, it’s wishy washy pink in the main area near the grape vines. And just one crimson one at the top of the herb garden. I had thought they could be used as flowers for the house. But they flop and give a great demonstration of flower flab. So don’t serve any decorative indoor purpose. In a week they will be a memory and I can plot planting some ornamental grasses in their place.

More worthy are some shots of the soft fruit garden. My what a bumper season we are having this year. We can’t move past the bushes enroute to the pool without grabbing handfuls of fruit. Jostaberries, blueberries, black currants and white currants are all in easy reach. The blueberries have a few more years to go before we can get more than a handful. But the three bushes so far have fruited. And I promise to bring more over from England over the autumn.

Even the apple tree at the end of the vegetable garden is fruiting: this is the Welstead Melrose apple, and there are three apples safely ensconced behind their netting and swelling nicely. Next month I shall see if we can count the fruit in the orchard. Each time I go down there I can’t believe my luck at seeing apples on the trees and even some apricots on the young tree. I had thought the apricot was the tree that succumbed to the peach leaf curl. (That will teach me to be lazy about labelling) But it was the nectarine instead. Or am I utterly wrong. Wouldn’t be surprised. How about I leave off prognosticating and just get on with showing a picture of the fruit I can identify instead?

And just to rub it in: here is the result of not netting everything within reach. I left last month with beetroots sitting proudly in their weedproof fabric, all too tempting for the four footed foes.

Was it Daisy the deer? I can’t be sure, but as only the three favourite veg were touched, I suspect it was her. She likes beetroot tops, lettuce and the juiciest parts of the swiss chard. Everything else is ignored. Thank goodness I don’t have a gourmet (and gourmande) eater.

Lovely poppy anyone? This wildflower garden down by the swimming pool is a constant source of surprises: must bring out my wildflower identification book next time I have the leisure to gaze at the patch of flowers. The poppies and the cornflowers are particularly striking. And all this is to soften you up for what is to be a tedious post of veg close ups. Some pictures are hard to even identify as subject matter worthy of space, but one needs to record when things emerge. That’s what this blog is mostly all about.

Take this aubergine for example It’s in there somewhere, truly. You just need to squint to see it. By mid July when we are settled for the summer they should be more plump and ready for barbeque-ing. We had the first cucumbers this week, sliced into a salad with vinegar, sugar, chillis, coriander and parsley. And each night has been a bountiful harvest of new potatoes, cabbage (leaves thinly sliced and stir fried with our usual pine nuts and dried cranberries).

And we have even had our first garlic and onions straight from the garden. Not all the garlic plumped out to expected girths, but there will be plenty for the summer I think. Luckily the wild life tend to leave them alone.  They may launch themselves at the courgettes (zucchini) if they care to. I haven’t hid them under cloches, but rather placed them under a set of four poles in the middle of the cabbage beds. Here they are flowering away just in case I get back this sunday and find the whole plant stripped of flowers.

Other achievements this week? Mowing. It takes up so much of my time, but isn’t really worthy of garden merit. But things do look so neat and tidy after the deed is done, so here are the dull old pics to show what I have been up to. Stifle those yawns up the back thank you.

And to finish, how about the first ever glimpse (for me) of cranberries ripening on the shrub. Please excuse the very unattractive background: these plants are crammed under weedproof fabric in the top potager. In July I promise to spend an entire day up that neglected part of the fruit garden. Well, we go up every second day to get more raspberries, but as the asparagus are just putting on their summer growth and the garlic is up, there is nothing else to fuss over. Eventually I shall plant more soft fruit bushes up here. I know, I know, there is a glut of jostaberries already. But that’s the whole point of the freezer and preserves. A year’s worth of fruit from just a short season. What could be better?